So, I was dreaming about getting unsweetened (details are important) iced tea for table 19. It seems I’m always getting tea someone in my dreams and can never quite get it for inexplicable, extraneous reasons. So then I wake up massaging my heel at 5am to a stupidly hot room, which was incredibly annoying because I NEVER have trouble sleeping. One quest in the dark to turn on a free-standing fan later…

I fell back asleep to take table 8’s order. It happened to be a girl who wanted a milkshake (don’t remember what kind this time, sorry! Although it was probably Butterfinger since that’s what we’re currently out of…) and a triple steakburger. Not too difficult right? Wrong. Because THIS GUY was in the dining room.

How am I supposed to focus when I got Adam Levine randomly singing up in the joint? And I’m a big Maroon 5 fan so…

Long dream short… I got distracted singing “Love Runs Out” by OneRepublic with Adam Levine featuring Christina Aguilera on the drums, which was a huge mistake, by the way. But hey, I don’t even like Christina, so why she was there, I have no clue, but whatever.

Suffice it to say, that while I was having a ball, I eventually remembered about the poor girl at table 8 who still had no food and I returned to her, but she was pretty angry and I woke up in a calm sort of panic (if you’re a server, you know this feeling). Lovely start to my day off, huh?

Everyone who has worked in the restaurant business knows that after a while, there are things that you longer eat. Even if you’re not necessarily repulsed or anything, you would just rather go without. For me, it’s fries. I see them all day long and just lose interest. For some, it’s the chili. SO MANY PEOPLE order it. Blah. … Well, I still like the chili.
I should introduce one of my coworkers, Roger (not his real name). I consider him an ally to me. There are people who make your life easier and people who make it harder. He’s one of the former. Besides being nice to me and making me laugh, he used to save my butt all the time when I first started and would ring in orders late. One other thing, I like people who actually do their job and don’t complain about it because IT’S THEIR FREAKING JOB.

One of the things that gets me every time is when people order a “cup of the genuine chili.” They’ll read the menu, and tell me they want the “genuine chili” because that’s what the menu says. I always wanna look at them like this:

Like “Oh, now that I know you want the GENUINE chili, now I know what you need.” Like what.

I think when you’re around things so much, you take things for granted and certain things become obsolete if not complete BS just to keep up appearances. Is the adjective “genuine” too much to place in front of “chili?” Perhaps not, but when Roger called out (not too loudly) today, “Here’s your g**d***** chili,” I smiled in secret agreement.

So, if you are a server, you’ll know that people leave weird tips sometimes. I’m not talking about the inexplicably large tips, which are always nice, or even the dreaded nonexistent tip, which is always stupid. You get coupons, religious brochures, etc. Today, I got a Washington, which was taken back to the server station, aaaand, let’s just say I think someone was bored.

I never ignore quirky tips, so this one will live on in the internet forever. Hooray! Tune next time when I ponder whether or not servers will learn to stop defacing federal reserve notes. (Probably not.)

An except of some correspondence with a dear friend of mine…
It will do for my story of the day…

First, last night a very large, disgruntled white man walked with purpose up to the counter where I was rolling silverware at about 8pm. I looked at him in expectation and sure enough, he spoke: “I need to see a manager.” He was so offended that I hurriedly turned around to go find Aaron, our night manager, who I like a lot because he’s not ridiculous like so many people who work at Steak ‘n’ Shake are. We both walked back up to the counter and I continued my work with the silverware while Aaron greeted the big scary man. I was able to hear him speak. Aaron sort of just quietly complied so I didn’t hear anything from him until the man left, and you’ll understand why after I’ve typed up the speech of this man.

“I was in the drive-thru and I asked for crispy fries. *holds up a fry and wiggles it to display maximum floppiness* I saw the girl who took my order pick up the fries and set them down for 10 minutes while I waited. They are not crispy and they were cold. When I told her this, she got pissed and turned around and shouted ‘I need crispy fries!’ and then slammed the window in my face. I want my money back. I will go to another Steak ‘n’ Shake. She can kiss my ass.”

Now, of the two of us, (sorry) you are the one who exaggerates and misquotes. Not I. So you’ll know that all of this was true. I know which girl was on drive-thru that night and she has a disinterested look about her in general, and she’s a bit blunt so I can see why the man was upset, plus his wait on the food didn’t do his patience any favors either, but the way he handled the situation was less than pleasant and one of the reasons why I hate being in charge. I don’t wanna handle people like THAT. I was just glad that Aaron could handle it and I just continued with my head down. Aaron wasn’t very pleased about it. But he only said so after that guy had left.
After all this, I felt a bit wary of anyone else coming up for a while, so when a plumpish African-American man came up to pay for his food, I was delighted, but my face probably didn’t show it because I was very serious about getting the exact change for him. And my face anyway isn’t very inviting when I am focused. I’ve heard this from several different coworkers. I look mean. Anyway, I was exceedingly apologetic I guess. I felt bad for him because his check was like $6.72 and he had a hard time finding the right credit card, which had only like $1.17 anyway. He ended up having to break a $50 bill. I could see from his name tag that he was our neighbor. 🙂 I mean he worked at Bob Evan’s. I told him that I loved getting free refills on the hot chocolate in winter time, which seemed to please him. He asked me if I liked working at Steak ‘n’ Shake, which I affirmed, of course. For all the crap I deal with, I still enjoy it. I didn’t tell him the crap part though. Then he told me I

should smile more then. But I bet you get that from your husband all the time.

That made me happy. I laughed and said I wasn’t married. He looked surprised and commented on how nobody in IL is apparently. He’s not from here. I understood his meaning and said I’d never been married either. He then asked me how old I was (apparently I should be married or something). I said 19, and that I’m a smart girl (for not being married), but not wanting to offend or give the wrong impression, I said I still have my eyes open. He laughed and said “Always keep your eyes open.” He was nice. I bet he’d be a fun uncle. He looked like he was old enough to have a few kids.
Well, there wasn’t much to tell there, but I like telling stories. Oh, and I hope you don’t think that the guy was creepy or anything, because he wasn’t. I’m a pretty foolish girl, but sometimes I can tell when people are being genuine, and I think he was. It made me smile…

So, this page begins my chronicling of my misadventures waitressing. I started a little over two years ago at Steak ‘n Shake and life has been a blur since then. Despite what some people may think, SnS is really a legitimate way of earning some quick cash. I am using it to hold back the college loans until I go full time in a few years. The past couple summers, I was working nights, but right now, I work day shifts mostly. Either 11am to 5pm, or 11am to 8pm. And let me tell you, being an “8 o’clocker” is no joke. That’s lunch rush and dinner rush right there. Get ready for some moolah if you’re any good.

The point is, working food service, you run into some pretty interesting people. It’s hard to tell what’s more interesting: the staff or the clientele? I think it depends on the day.

Today’s story is about discretion and whether or not old men have it.

I’m a pretty serious server.

So, if you look to the right, you’ll see a horrendous duck-faced selfie of me. (I am notorious for taking selfies. I try to control it.) My hair is actually a bit lighter because the light wasn’t quite hitting it. There’s a reference point for the story. 😉

I was taking a carry-out order at the counter, like ya do, for an older man probably mid-sixties. He was tanned with glasses and a nice watch. He ordered a triple steakburger and a shooter with two patties (who does that?!) and a large coke. A server’s mind can recall many things… Sometimes hours after they’re needed. Whoops.

Well, I remained up at the counter for a few minutes in order to take care of some people cashing out after their meals. The man was sitting patiently at one of the stools and after I’d finished, he addresses me.

“So are you a strawberry blonde, or what?” I’ve mostly been referred to as a blond, especially during the summertime, so I agreed.

“I guess so.” I shrugged and smiled at him.

That’s what my first wife was. Strawberry blonde.

I don’t know about you, but this made me feel uncomfortable. I wondered if I looked like his wife did and how many wives he’d had. I hoped just two.

“But she’s been gone a long time. Long time.” He sort of fiddled with his watch with a hidden frown on his face.

For some reason, this just struck me as the most awkward thing ever, so I asked him if he wanted me to go ahead and get his coke and he said, “Yeah, you can get it, I’ll go ahead and start drinking it down.” He sounded energetic enough, but his smile was wistful. Jeez, dude. You okay? I went and got the coke from drive-thru, where we keep the big cups and brought it back.

The man gave me what was left on his gift card ($0.44), which he used to pay. He also handed me a handful of change and said that was all he had on him. “I’m always getting on my wife for money, but . . .”

A person doesn’t get a lot of tips for carry-outs, so I didn’t care, but what was awkward was how the man was slightly pitiful and I was the first-wife look-alike, I guess. The strawberry blonde.

I was able to finish rolling my silverware and leave, so I didn’t see the man leave, and that was the end of it. For me, the most interesting thing about these encounters is to try to see exactly who someone is by just the little things. The way their clothes might be wrinkled or pressed and whether or not there’s a glint in their eyes or a hollowness. Now and again, you learn something about yourself too, by how others perceive you. At least I got some spare change for my Batman piggy bank from this one.